Act of Piracy
by Mica Romanus
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes aren't known for their brotherly love. But what happened to cause such hostilities between them? A tale of how one event shattered the lives of many, and how it was all blamed on the great detective. Post-Reichenbach, Young Sherlock/Mycroft, and other stories. Rating subject to change.
1. The Fall

Author's Note: Young Sherlock stories will start at chapter 4, just laying the ground work for other bits. **And please review or PM me, even if it is negative. I would love to know what works and what doesn't work to help improve my writing!**

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Chapter One

The Fall

* * *

Silence clung to the air making it thick. Molly Hooper hadn't been prepared for the man she loved to finally confess that he needed her. At least not like this. She had dreamed up scenarios, in which the man in question swept her off her feet, rode in on a white horse, or brought her tea in bed. The thought of that last one brought a flush to her fair cheeks. But it had not been any of those. It had been in the dark laboratory where they sometimes worked together. Sitting opposite Sherlock at the lab table Molly stayed silent, scared to speak lest she ruin the dream. Yet Sherlock made no signs of speaking either. Uncomfortably she tugged at her white lab coat and cleared her throat.

"What is it that you need Sherlock? I will do anything you need, anything at all." Molly said sheepishly.

"I want you to make a phone call."

"A phone call?" she replied confused. Suddenly the situations popping back into reality. "You need me to make a phone call?"

"Yes." Sherlock said placing his clasped hands to his mouth, his mind moving quickly elsewhere.

"Why?"

"I will be detained, plus I doubt if she knew it was me she would answer."

"You want me to call a woman? Like The Woman?"

"No No! She could be anywhere. Why would I want you to call her?"

"Sorry I just thought, well it's not like you know that many women Sherlock." Sherlock just stared at her from across the table. Pale blue eyes pierced through the dim light to meet hers.

"Will you do this for me Molly Hooper?" Sherlock's voice dropped a few octaves when he whispered her name, the sound of it sending a chill down her spine.

"Okay. I'll do it. What's the number?" Sherlock slid a small slip of paper across the smooth metal table. Molly took it quickly, reading the number poorly scrawled upon the paper. A single first name was etched along the top, Olivia. Sighing she stood to leave, mad at herself for getting her hopes up that Sherlock would be any less cold then he always was. However before she even took a step she felt his long firm hand against hers.

"We're hardly done yet." Sherlock said resolutely.

* * *

Olivia sat bored in her study. The book she had been trying to read all day lay abandoned and her tea had gone cold. The sun peeking through patches in the dark clouds warmed her skin through the window. She yawned despite herself and felt her eyes growing heavy. The house was quiet, it had been too quiet as of late and she just couldn't get used to it. The only sounds coming from the old clock on the mantle and the ocean waves just outside her front door. A soft knock at the door roused her from her dazed dosing.

"Ma'am you have a phone call." Olivia's assistant said. Not entering the threshold the tall aged man stood motionless, his sharp black suit and tie perfectly in place.

"From whom, Stanley?"

"The young woman wouldn't tell me her name, only that it was of dire importance that she contacted you." Shocked Olivia turned to the man, finally giving him her full attention. "I know we have had prank calls before Ma'am but something's different about this one, something in her voice."

"Something in her voice." Olivia said mockingly. She raised an eye brow to the man. "I've never known you to be so sentimental."

"Should I tell her you are out then?" he replied coarsely.

"No no, Stanley I'll take it. And why not. I haven't anything better to do" Olivia said shrugging her shoulders. She pushed out of her chair and slid past the statue of a man into the hallway. The phone sat alone seemingly out of place with the antique furniture surrounding it, the receiver lying awkwardly on the desk waiting to be answered.

"Olivia speaking." She said with a sigh. Slowly she leaned against the wall resting her heavy head on the tapestry and closed her eyes.

"Oh umm hi, sorry to bother you, my name is Molly Hooper." The girl's voice on the phone did sound flustered and weak but not at all what Olivia had been expecting.

"May I ask Molly Hooper why you are calling my home?" Olivia replied as silence fell on the other end.

"I have been asked to tell you to please arrive at Bart's Hospital in two hours." the shaking voice had demanded. Taken aback Olivia snapped to awareness all earlier drowsiness abated. She hardly knew what to answer but something in the girl's voice was pleading even if the statement had been unexpected.

"Bart's Hospital, is someone I know hurt?" Olivia implored into the phone.

"No, I mean yes… well…" the girl stammered.

"It is a simple question; a yes or no will suffice. And so help me if this is a prank." Olivia stated forcefully gripping the receiver tight.

"He said you would come without question. I don't know what to do." Molly said.

"He? He who? Who has made such a rather demanding request of my assistance?"

"An old friend. Please you must come. He said you were the only person that could help him right now. He said for him you wouldn't ask questions. You would be too curious to stay away."

"A nameless man telling me what I will do makes it very difficult not to do just the opposite." Olivia replied coolly tempted to hang up. But there was truth to the girl's words, however infuriating that may have been. Olivia was curious.

"Please, he needs your help." Molly whispered. Before Olivia could inquire further the line disconnected. Furious she glanced at the clock; if she didn't leave soon she wouldn't arrive in time. Smiling to herself she realized that was the desired effect, no time to think it over. It was now or never. She had a sneaky suspicion she knew exactly who was calling upon her. Gritting her teeth as her curiosity strengthened she called for Stanley.

"I need a car now."

"Yes, Ma'am, but where are you going?" he said popping his head around the corner, confusion marking his expression. "Is something the matter?"

"Saint Bartholomew Hospital, London, and the truth Stanley is I just don't know."

"Why so sudden?"

"When you are acquainted with the type of people I am, you get used to it. Have Helen stay late."

"Yes ma'am." Stanley looked at her disapprovingly but he would never voice the thoughts running through his head. Like those of how reckless she was, how irresponsible, how foolish, and how she was only distracting herself from her actual responsibilities. When would she ever grow up?

* * *

The cool wind bit at his face, tossing his hair wildly about. Sherlock gazed toward the ground. People passed below oblivious to the perplexing matter above them, unaware of the horror they were about to witness. Sherlock's mind raced, he had hoped to avoid this dilemma. He'd hoped to have wormed his way out of Moriarty's plan. However there he was standing with shaking knees on the roof of Bart's Hospital. He had of course known there was the probability of the man behind him, splayed with his unseeing pale blue eyes gaping toward the sky, would get out of the situation. Remove himself from Sherlock's problem leaving him with only one option, Moriarty's option. But he had not thought that a man like Moriarty, with such ego, would kill himself to remove the obstacle. Now he had no choice, die, or kill the most important people to him. He smiled; to go back to his life before would be death. Alone with no one but himself, no one to stop his raging mind from tearing itself apart, no one to stop him from tearing himself apart. He hadn't fully realized the effect John's friendship had on him until that very moment. He had been his friend when no one else was, and that was worth dying for, it was worth protecting. Sherlock scanned the horizon ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. This was it. This was the end. His eyes were upon her before he even realized she was in his sights. Stepping out of her hired car, her long black hair rebelled against her, ripping franticly around her face, hiding her expression from him. It had been such a long time since they had last spoken, and as most of his conversations did, ended badly. He was even surprised she had come. Molly had done her job well. However if she stayed was another matter entirely, but that didn't matter to him now. Sherlock spotted John quickly exiting a cab. Dialing John's number he sighed knowing this would be the hardest conversation he would ever have. This would be the first time he had ever said goodbye to his best friend, even when others, like the dark haired woman who had finally spotted him on the roof, deserved those goodbyes as well.

* * *

The London streets were busy, and the sky was darkening with the coming rain. Sighing as the car pulled off to the side she prepared herself for whatever plot required her assistance. She was rather eager to meet this mysterious young woman from the phone and find out what man required her. The wind picked up as she stepped on to the curb tossing her hair across her face. Restraining the messy locks she glanced down the street toward the hospital. She couldn't recall if she had ever been to the location before but something did seem familiar about it. It was the flittering of a long black coat that drew her eye to the rooftop. She smiled unconsciously as she recognized Sherlock's silhouette.

"Of course it would be you." she said to herself.

She stood stock still as she watched him teetering on the ledge. His arm outstretched as if pleading with someone below. Seconds seem overextended, each heartbeat she felt in her throat long and slow. The dread grew in her mind. Then slowly as if watching a car wreck, Sherlock lifted his arms out. The wind catching his coat, and in a blink of an eye he was falling. Olivia's breath caught, her body refused to move, her mind rejecting to process what she was witnessing.

It wasn't until the first scream rang out that brought her back to reality and then her feet moved without her realizing. She ran at a breakneck pace down to the hospital, a crowd was gathering now but she could see Sherlock's out stretched hand, his blood like a puzzle snaking its way through the cracks in the pavement. She stood horrified as a man begged to be let through, desperately trying to take hold of Sherlock's hand. Olivia felt like she was going to be sick. How could she have been so stupid, why didn't she just stay at home, she kept thinking to herself.

"Olivia?" a young woman said, gently taking her arm. Finding it difficult to pull her eyes away from the scene in front of her, she slowly looked at the girl. Plain but pretty the young girl in her lab coat smiled at her awkwardly.

"Yes?" she breathed the word barely above a whisper.

"I'm Molly I need you to follow me inside, if you don't mind." Molly said her voice uneven as she fiddled with her clothing.

"No I can't leave him, I-I can't believe this! You called me here for this! If you knew this was going to happen why didn't you stop him! Call the police!" Olivia yelled jerking her arm away from the girl.

"It will be all right, I know you must be confused. I know I was when he told me. But you must trust me, trust Sherlock. He needs you here. If you'll please come inside, you may be waiting for a little while. I'm not really sure how long this is going to take." Molly replied refusing to glance at the body not 30 feet away. As she spoke men from the hospital were lifting Sherlock onto a gurney wheeling him quickly inside. His friend was left sitting on the pavement, blood stained his fingers but he didn't seem to care. His eyes looked as lifeless as Sherlock's had.

"Oh God I have to call Mycroft." Olivia said turning her back to the scene; she fumbled for her mobile phone completely ignoring the girl, but Molly was used to that. Molly's heart raced. She had to be firm. She had to take control, just like Sherlock wanted.

"He said not to do that, at least not yet. Please come inside. I will make us some tea." Molly insisted.

"I don't want any bloody tea! You can't really expect me to just take this calmly. I can't! I can't!" Olivia chocked, her voice cracking under the stress.

"Sherlock told me to get in touch with you. He told me to get you to stay. And he told me he wanted you to claim his belongings. I don't know why he wanted you to see this. Frankly I don't understand him most of the time. But his plans always have a purpose, they always work out. Come inside, soon things should start making sense again. Well sort of." Molly said forcefully, raising her voice over the growing crowd of spectators.

Dropping her mobile phone back into her purse Olivia sighed. She wanted to call Mycroft; he could do something, anything. Looking back to the haggard man sitting on the pavement, she couldn't look at the blood anymore, or the man's sorrow filled eyes. It was heart breaking.

"Alright."

Molly's office was small but cozy, if a hospital could be considered cozy. Olivia's tea sat untouched on the small desk in front of her. This was not the day she had prepared for. Not that anyone is ever prepared for days like this one. But when she had stepped out her front door she had the hope of mystery and intrigue; she had not expected to witness the suicide of Sherlock Holmes.

Molly had left her to her own devises about two hours ago, and with each moment it became harder and harder to resist calling Mycroft. She was assured it was Sherlock's wish and Olivia knew that his requests usually served a purpose. However her resolve was faltering. She still couldn't believe it. Why? It was the only question racing through her mind. Had he changed so much from when she knew him? Because the Sherlock she knew would not have done this, he thought too highly of himself. A knock at the door disturbed her thoughts.

"We're ready for you." Molly said from the doorway. She looked nervous as she led Olivia down to the morgue. Olivia didn't understand what she was doing here. She hadn't seen Sherlock in years. Shouldn't Mycroft or his mother be here? Shouldn't his grieving friend outside be the one traveling down to the morgue. Not her.

"Please, I know this is difficult for you. But he is just through those doors" Molly said motioning to the large metal double doors.

"Why me?" Olivia asked more to herself than to anyone else.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me that part. I guess the less I know the better, at least that's what he thinks" Molly answered, suddenly Olivia caught the look in her eyes, sadness, loneliness, but more than all the rest sheer utter heartbreak. Molly gave Olivia a once over, then glanced down at herself. There was judgment in her eyes; it was a look most females know. One given when ex-lovers find a replacement, a look of 'what does she have that I don't'. It was a shocking gesture. Not because she couldn't have been more wrong. But because first the mourning man outside and now this girl, how much had Sherlock changed? He had mourning friends and a girl in love with him.

"Thank you Molly."

Slowly Olivia made her way to the doors. Hesitantly she opened them. The room was dim, little light coming in from the observatory windows. It couldn't have been set any better. The room was empty, all but the one metal slab in the center. Olivia gritted her teeth as she slowly approached the occupied table. And there he was, coat and scarf still in place. Blood matted his hair, making his curled locks stick to the side of his blood covered face. His eyes were closed as if he were only sleeping, peacefully. She could only stand there and stare at him, no tears came, her breath was even, she didn't understand how she could be so calm. But the longer she stood there, unable to take her eyes off his face, the more her fists clenched. The hotter her cheeks became, then suddenly she was filled with more anger than she could imagine.

"YOU SELFISH BASTARD!" she shouted. "AFTER ALL THIS TIME! ALL THIS TIME! YOU CALL ME HERE TO WATCH YOU KILL YOURSELF!" Kicking the table, she couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She didn't want to be in the room anymore. Quickly she spun on her heal to leave, finally the tears catching in her eyes.

"You were the only person I could trust right now." Sherlock's baritone voice echoed in the room. Shocked Olivia turned just in time to see him straighten his coat as he sat on the edge of the morgue table.

"You're not dead!" she said stunned.

"Obviously" he replied, seeming bored with the way the conversation was going. Slowly she approached him, failing at keeping the completely dumbfounded look off her expression. In result to her minds slow uptake on the change of events she took to poking him in the shoulder to confirm he was actually in front of her.

"Why?" she whispered.

"The jumping off the rooftop matter I assume." He said. As she shook her head 'yes' in response he sighed.

"If I knew you were going to be practically catatonic I might as well have called Mycroft for assistance, though I am sure it wouldn't have been quite as easy to get him to go along with everything." Jumping from the table Sherlock removed his coat draping it across the slab, he moved gracefully to the sink in the corner. Removing the blood from his hands and face, little could be done about his hair.

"I had no choice. It is simple as that." Sherlock finally answered.

"No, it isn't as simple as that. Why did you jump and what the hell does this have to do with me?" Olivia said her patience draining quickly like sand from an hour glass.

"Since time is of the essence here I will make this brief. A man by the name of Moriarty, whose body is at this very moment in that freezer to your left, wanted to convince the world that I am a fraud, creating elaborate plans where doubt began to slip into everyone's minds. He killed himself so I would have no other option but to do what he wanted. Die and prove to the world that I am a fake. That killed himself in shame of being discovered. He placed those I care about in the firing range, quite literally, to ensure this. It was me or them. I had to die or they did. So when I said I had no choice, it really was that simple."

"Why call me?"

"I have to remain dead until I know it is safe for them. Otherwise all of this is for nothing, and their blood will be on my hands."

"That seems so kind of you, thoughtful, so completely unlike yourself."

"You can't still be angry with me." Sherlock's brows furrowed, shocked by the mere thought of it.

"I assure you I can. And this little situation that you are so perfectly underplaying does not help."

"It was years ago why would you still be upset?" Sheer malice came over Olivia's expression.

"I will leave that to your superior deductive skills." she scoffed.

"Dull! You and Mycroft are so similar never letting go of the past. It was hardly my fault what happened, and yet I received all the blame. Perhaps you should direct your anger toward the people responsible. Your father seems the suitable target." Sherlock spouted. Olivia rolled her eyes in response, clenching her jaw to keep her temper in check. She felt like she was dealing with a child.

"Why not call Mycroft? I am sure he could handle this situation a lot better than I can. And so help me Sherlock if you say it is because he is your archenemy, I will put you back on that slab myself and you won't get up this time."

"I have to assume they are watching Mycroft, and I also have to accept it was him that gave Moriarty the information about me in the first place. That is why I called you. They know all about me and by association Mycroft." Olivia stared un-amused, as if that had explained anything.

"But I know Mycroft. He would never have told them about you, he would have spun stories and documents to insure you were never involved." Sherlock continued.

"Until now, thanks to you. I take it you want me to hide you."

"Yes, a few years should suffice. I can't imagine hired killers staying loyal for much longer than that."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to shelter you for a few years, while hired killers look for any sign of you. And these assassins are just waiting to kill off all your acquaintances on the orders of a madman that just caused you to fake your suicide. Am I wrong in that assumption?" Sherlock's face was stern as he listened to her speak. "And you want me to pull my family into all this madness?"

"I know it is a lot to a…"

"A lot to ask is an understatement!" Olivia interrupted. "Do you realize the danger you have put me in just by calling me today!" Sherlock opened his mouth to interject but was cut off "of course you do! You also realize any efforts Mycroft put into my safety are useless now!"

"He should have thought of that before he told a psychopath all about me! My life, and my childhood, those I care the most about!" Sherlock shouted. Sighing Olivia glanced down at her feet, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

"Today was the first day I have ever seen you care about anyone but yourself. I just wish I was privileged to that as well. Goodbye Sherlock." Olivia turned to the door, but her hand rested on the handle longer than it should.

"Please Olivia, after everything that has happened between us I know I have no right. But you are the only person I can trust, the only person that can help." Sympathy oozed from Sherlock's voice.

"Sherlock I knew you long enough to know your fake empathy when I hear it, just stop." She opened the door, the bright light from the hallway overexposing her features. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat as his mind fought for solutions.

"I will have the car pick you up out back; you have funeral arrangements to attend to." And with that she was through the door slamming it behind her, leaving Sherlock alone in the dark.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat my inbox is open! :D (Or drop me a line on tumblr! p-r-o-x-y/tumblr/com) I would really love to get some feedback since this is my first Sherlock fic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... no really, nothing. It's quite sad. Owners are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I assume chaps at the BBC.


	2. Temporary Home

Chapter 2

Temporary Home

* * *

Olivia's black car pulled up to the service door behind the hospital, and to Sherlock's surprise he found her driving. Making a quick dash for the passenger side he jumped in the car. Before he had a chance to pull his coat tails into the vehicle she was already moving. Olivia whipped the car around with ease speeding down the back alley with determined haste.

"Here put these on." she said handing Sherlock a black knitted hat and a pair of sunglasses. "And you should really remove that iconic coat of yours. You need to do this before we hit the main street. It would be a shame for someone to recognize you before the game has even begun."

"Of course, that was smart of you." He replied as he pulled the hat down passed his ears. "How did you get rid of your driver so effortlessly?"

"Please" she scoffed. "I employ him. I explained I needed to be alone after the events of today, he seemed quite understanding. I gave him fare for the journey home and that was that." Sherlock hummed his response.

"Do you even have a driver's license? I can't imagine someone of your position driving often." Sherlock stated. Suddenly he was watching her actions maneuvering the car more closely.

"So how have you faked your death so effortlessly might I ask?" she said mocking Sherlock's tone and quickly changing the subject. "Aren't people going to be poking around?"

"Molly is taking care of the records; my death obviously a suicide will be easy to forge on the autopsy report. John and Mycroft have already seen my body, and my funeral a closed casket be it an empty one. Molly is in place to stop any other investigations."

"And you think such a timid girl can do that?"

"She got you here didn't she?"

"Point taken" Olivia said smiling. "The girl is in love with you I am sure she would do anything to protect you. Which makes me wonder why not just stay with her, you've trusted her this far."

"Yes I know." Sherlock said boredom creeping into his tone. "The thought had entered my mind, but Moriarty's people would surely be watching her. She did date the man for a time." Giving Sherlock a side glance Olivia had a hard time believing it; maybe she wasn't as innocent and timid as she'd looked.

"And your mother?" Before Sherlock could answer Olivia pulled onto the main street. Reporters littered the area, some standing on the very spot Sherlock fell, while others across the street. It was a madhouse. Only the queen would have gotten more media attention. Ducking down in his seat Sherlock covered his face as much as he could.

Olivia could only imagine the stories they were spinning. 'Coming up the discussion of how the fake genius Sherlock Holmes killed himself and the shocking reasons why' the news anchors would say. Glancing over to the man in question she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She could try to keep the news broadcasts from him. Hide the newspaper stories about him. but she knew Sherlock, somehow he would find out the truth.

"What about her?" he finally answered when they were away from chaos.

"Sherlock, this will break her heart. Isn't there a way to spare her that, maybe we could drive to Oxford? Tell her your plan?"

"My mother is not an actress; and people will expect a grieving mother. If she knows the truth no one will believe the lie, and I doubt she could keep it from Mycroft." Olivia laughed having to cup her hand around her mouth to stifle the sound. She received a confused and yet irritated look from Sherlock.

"What is amusing?"

"The Holmes boys aren't exactly known for their compassion. Mycroft will be back in the office by this afternoon, and no one will think it odd. So I truly doubt people would have a hard time believing that your mother would not act the same."

"Those who know her would. It is a risk I am not willing to take."

"And that goes for your friends as well? No attempt to spare their feelings either?"

"Olivia if you weren't a person I know they're not watching. You wouldn't even be privileged to the fact that I am not dead."

"Oh what a privilege it is." Olivia stated sarcastically. A silence fell over the car for some time. Olivia welcomed it; it allowed her to think of what she was going to do. She still didn't completely know why she had accepted Sherlock's demanding plan. When everything else told her this was foolish. There was nothing stopping her from driving straight to the Diogenes Club and just dropping Sherlock off. She was sure Mycroft would relish in the fact that he hadn't actually been a direct cause of his younger brother's suicide. And here was her moment. Just as the thought had entered her mind the traffic light had turned red. Truly fate wanted her to make a decision. To her left the Club, and to her right the highway access that led straight to her home.

Sighing she couldn't bring herself to do it. Was it because she missed him? Or felt some sort of loyalty to him, she couldn't be sure. All she knew, as the light turned green, was that she couldn't betray Sherlock at that moment not when he had just sacrificed everything. His home, his friends, but she knew what affected him the most, his reputation. Not what people said about him, he never cared for people's opinions, but the fact that his mental prowess was now rejected. His truly fantastic mind was thrown in the gutter by people unworthy of even speaking the name Sherlock Holmes, yet alone making judgments about him. Turning right Olivia relaxed in her seat, resolute in her choice.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock stated loudly. Olivia looked at him shocked 'he couldn't have known what I was thinking about.' She thought.

"My home, where else should I be going." She replied, an arrogant tone creeping into her voice.

"My funeral is tomorrow we should stay in London."

"You can if you wish but I can't Sherlock. I am going home."

"It is a waste for us to drive all this way again tomorrow." Sherlock stated as if he were speaking to Anderson. 'Wasn't it decipherable why it would have made sense to stay in London?' he thought.

"Us? What's stopping you from coming back by yourself?"

"I thought you would go to my funeral."

"I would say you were joking if I knew you didn't have a sense of humor."

"I see." Sherlock said turning his head to look out the window at the blurring city. Olivia knew instantly by his tone that she had somehow upset his not so delicate sensibilities.

"What?"

"If I died you wouldn't go to my funeral. I knew I'd upset you but I believe I failed to grasp the depth of it. Human emotion sometimes truly does surprise me."

"I would go."

"But you have just so clearly stated you are not."

"That's because you aren't dead Sherlock!" Olivia said exasperated, her hands tightening around the steering wheel.

"I am to everyone else." He replied, his voice suddenly somber.

"I'm not going Sherlock." Olivia said sighing. "I can't play a role in this; I won't be your actress this time." Olivia glanced over to Sherlock who had yet to turn from the window. All about him looked well except his hands were in tight fists, his knuckles going white. Sighing she fixed her attention back to the road. "We're not children anymore Sherlock."

"On second thought, perhaps it is better you don't go." Sherlock stated quickly, overshadowing Olivia's last statement. "Lest unsavory characters should see you and chose to investigate."

"Okay" she answered slowly, his statement sending a spark of fear into her belly. "When you say unsavory characters does that mean assassins?" Gawking at Sherlock she waited for his answer. Hoping that he was merely being a drama queen as he usually was. However silence wore on, dragging out every second.

"Yes." He finally answered looking her directly in the eyes, his dazzling blue pools penetrating her dim hazel. The pit in her stomach twisted tighter as she broke their gaze to focus back on the road.

"Great." Olivia replied sarcastically.

"However we should just stay in London." Sherlock stated again.

"I already told you I can't." Olivia said, saying each word slowly as if talking to a child.

"Ah yes, the husband." Sherlock stated sarcastically, as if he had forgotten. "I assume you will need to inform your husband of our impending arrival. Bringing a random man home with you is a bit odd for a married woman. Though I would advise somehow getting around the fact of who I am."

"My husband died Sherlock." Olivia said softly, fearing that her voice would falter.

"Well you did marry a man twice your age, it was to be expected."

"Yes Sherlock, I guess I should have expected it. I did marry him for position and financial support. So I can't see why his death would have affected me at all." She replied coldly. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened again as she resisted hitting the man to her left. "He died in a car accident six months ago."

"I see. I was unaware. You still where your wedding ring and your clothing suggests you still dress for someone. Otherwise why still wear that uncomfortable lingerie. I know you aren't the sort of woman to even entertain the idea of a lover, so who else would you dress for, your husband. And the fact that you keep checking your mobile phone, communicating briefly through texts implies a personal relationship. And your constant checking of the time, someone worried you'd be home late? "

Exhaling Olivia replied. "I am not even going to ask how or why you know what undergarments I have on, or that you have been keeping track of my texts."

"Perhaps given the situation you would like me to drive, seeing as you don't have a license. It would be a shame to have you kill us both in the same manner your husband died." Olivia wasn't sure she wanted to surrender control of the car, but he did have a point. Sighing she pulled off to the shoulder.

"Just because I am doing this does not mean you were right. I had complete control." She said as she unlocked the doors to switch seats.

"I never said you didn't."

Sherlock eased down into the driver's seat adjusting everything to his specifications. He glanced to Olivia to see her watching him.

"What?"

"You… When did you get a license?" Olivia said skeptical.

"I got bored while at university, wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Really quite elementary, apes could just as easily get a license." Sherlock said putting the car in drive.

"I would like to see them try" Olivia laughed. Sighing deeply she relaxed in her seat, it was the first time she had realized she had been so tense for the last few hours.

* * *

As the sun began to set London gave way to lush hillsides and salt laden air as they traveled south to Eastbourne. The seaside town was a beautiful one. Old hotels and luxurious town houses dotted the coast. And long antique piers jutted out into the ocean. Large dark blue waves crashed upon the rocky shoreline. But this was not what made Eastbourne beautiful; it was the massive stunning white chalk cliffs. Thousands of feet high of stark white hills adjacent dark blue waters as far as the eye could see.

It was no surprise to Olivia when Sherlock didn't ask for directions to her home. Of course he would know. Driving along a hillside the town was far behind them. Then finally out of the darkness arose The Cavendish manor. The estate was large. A long gravel park led to the substantial home. Built on one of Eastbourne's white cliffs the house was equal in beauty. The large neoclassical manor stood strong against the black sky. Its white façade bright with large columns lining the front entrance, however the only signs of life inside the house came from the few lights that illuminated scattered rooms. This house was built for a large family and staff, but was so clearly inhabited by few.

"You've done well for yourself." Sherlock said as he stepped out of the car.

"This isn't mine, if I hadn't married a Cavendish I would still be living near my father. This house has been in my husband's family for ages. I'm just glad the rest of them haven't decided to boot me out of it yet." Rounding the corner she led Sherlock through the front door into the greeting hall. And what a hall it was. Large tapestries covered the walls depicting ancient scenes of knights on their horses. An enormous chandelier illuminated the room, revealing the massive staircase. The antique furnishings scattered the walls. Someone had decorated this house but it had been a century or two ago.

"Ah Ma'am your finally home, I was starting to get quite worried. When your driver informed me that you wanted to drive back yourself I didn't know what to think. Are you alright?" Helen said, the old woman was a brittle old thing, but stood tall. Not even the third world war would have stopped this bird. She had a strong-minded look about her.

"Yes I am fine, nothing to worry about I assure you." As she spoke Sherlock closed the door loudly behind him. Poking her head around the corner of Olivia, Helen looked skeptical as she glanced between Sherlock and her employer.

"Who's this?" Helen asked adjusting her glasses.

"A guest." Sherlock answered. Before Helen could inquire further hurried footsteps came from the hall above.

"I am sorry ma'am; Christopher wanted to wait up for you. If I had known it would be so late I would never have allowed it." Helen said looking Olivia dead in the eyes daring her to even think about questioning her judgment.

"It quite alright, thank you for staying up so late, if I had known I would have made arrangements"

"That's my job" Helen said smiling.

"MUMMY!" screamed a small voice from the top on the rather large staircase.

"Darling!" Olivia yelled back, going up the stairs to grab the little boy before his struggling little limbs resulted in him falling down the stairs. "Thank you Helen you can go home for the night, I think we can manage."

"Of course. Please if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, goodnight."

"Goodnight ma'am" as she headed to the front door Helen gave Sherlock a final glance, trying desperately to figure out the new arrival. Olivia could honestly say she had never seen the man so silent. There he was standing against the wall, he hadn't moved once since he had entered the greeting hall.

"You have a son." His deep voice resonated in the room. He had said it more to himself than address Olivia; however she answered his statement nonetheless.

"Yes, this is my son Christopher. Say hello sweetheart." In response to being on display all the sudden the dark haired boy hid his face with his mother's neck. "It's alright, trust me, he won't mind rudeness." She said glancing at Sherlock. Before another word could be said she was carrying Christopher back up the staircase toward where his footsteps had come. Not entirely sure of where to go in the massive manor Sherlock decided to follow his rude hostess. He followed the sounds and light until he was at the door of what was obviously a child's room. Various toys littered the floor and maps old and new were plastered on the walls. Olivia was sitting on the bedside of the little boy trying to get the squirming figure to lie still.

"It's time for bed now." She said smoothing down his wild curly locks.

"But Mummy where were you?"

"I had to pick a man up from London today."

"Daddy?"

"No not daddy sweetheart, you need to go to sleep now, because how about tomorrow I get Helen to take you to the beach. You can get more seashells for your collection."

"I want you to go."

"I know, but I can't tomorrow. Next time okay."

"Mm-kay" he replied as she tucked the covers in around him. Before she had even turned out the bedside table light the boy's eyes were already fluttering in exhaustion. Sherlock stood in the doorway fascinated by the little one. Olivia really wasn't the same woman he once knew, just as he wasn't the same man. Sidestepping to allow Olivia to silently close the door Sherlock watched as the happiness from her eyes faded with each passing second.

"He still doesn't seem to understand that his father isn't coming back. I've tried to explain but he just seems to think he's on holiday."

"I didn't know you had a family." Sherlock stated catching Olivia off guard. She had dealt with the man all day through more emotional situations then she cared to think about and now was when he sounded sincere. Now of all times did she know he meant it.

"Of course I do Sherlock. You couldn't expect me to just stop living because you weren't in my life anymore. Granted my life isn't straight out of a detective story like yours is. I can't solve crimes and roam the streets at night solving puzzles. My life is now common mediocrity, but I'm okay with that."

"Olivia I swear to you I wasn't aware."

"I honestly didn't expect you to. Your mind is full of solutions I don't imagine you have room for my personal life." She said lightly touching his arm. "Sherlock it has been a long day. I'll show you your room then bid you goodnight."

Walking down the long dark hall Olivia led Sherlock merely two rooms away from Christopher's. The room was spacious with large bay windows. A large bed flanked by draped windows was the only focal point. No art scattered the walls, nothing to take away from the breathtaking views. Even in the darkness Sherlock could make out the white cliffs and sea not far beyond that.

"This will do nicely."

"I thought so, at least for the time being. My room is the last on the right, which I am sure you're already aware of; and I do believe you can figure out the layout of my home yourself, if you haven't already. If you need anything help yourself."

"Yes"

"Goodnight Sherlock." Before he could reply she was already walking down the hallway to her room.

Sighing he looked around his own room. It was nothing like 221b. Closing the door behind him he tried to settle in. But this was a house that wasn't his, a bed that wasn't his own, and housemates that didn't want him there. It was now that thoughts of John crept into his consciousness. What was John doing now? Was he in their flat? Could he bring himself to go back there? Hopefully Mrs. Hudson was taking care of him, bringing him tea and biscuits as she always did. Then suddenly like a ton of bricks it hit him. John's sorrowful voice 'please he's my friend, my friend.' John desperately trying to take hold of his hand, begging the heavens that what was before him was not reality. Sherlock felt the sting in his eyes. Sighing deep he let his head fall into his hands. A sob raked his body. This was to be a long sleepless night.

* * *

Author's Note: I promise young Sherlock tales ahead! I am just setting things up for now.

Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I recently decided to revamp this story and plan to update soon. If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat my inbox is open! :D (Or drop me a line on tumblr! * ask ) I would really love to get some feedback since this is my first Sherlock fic.

Disclaimer: I own nothing... no really, nothing. It's quite sad. Owners are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I assume chaps at the BBC.


	3. Fireside

Chapter 3

Fireside

* * *

By the time Olivia had awoken the next day, Sherlock's room was already empty. The house was quiet not yet beginning to stir. Christopher's room was still blissfully silent and dark. Walking slowly down the large stair case Olivia made her way to the kitchen at the back of the house. The room was dim and cold, and too modern for the old house. With no sign of the cook even remotely showing up yet Olivia started making coffee. Resting on a bar stool at the island in the middle of the room, she kept her feet off the cool floor.

Sighing she let her mind wander. So much had happened the day before. She never thought that her childhood friend would ever be back in her life. Not in a million years. Ever. And yet here she was housing the great detective Sherlock Holmes. Her mind still itched to call someone. Let anyone know that Sherlock was still alive. Anyone that could help with his problem, because she surely knew she had nothing to offer him. She never had.

The smell of coffee began to waft throughout the room, waking her up without even taking a sip. After having a cup in the dark Olivia decided that she was going to work today. Anything other than sitting in the large study blankly looking at books whose information never seems to process; while her mind raced thinking of the one subject matter that had been plaguing her for months. As she retreated to her own study something stark caught her eye placed on the front door. A bright yellow sticky note hung to the large blue door. Gently pulling the note from the door it read 'stolen car, back tonight' in slanted script.

"When I said help yourself this isn't really what I meant Sherlock. How am I supposed to explain this to my staff?" she whispered.

The day passed slowly as Olivia tried to put paint to canvas. Failing miserably, she had found several other things to occupy her time. When she heard Stanley come in she had decided to light a fire, staying an hour next to the antique fireplace soaking up the heat. Later she reorganized her books. When Christopher woke up she sat with him while he ate, Helen taking struggling efforts to get the food into the boy's mouth. After they left for the beach, Olivia went back to her study for the day. As the sky grew dark and the staff was leaving Olivia became anxious. There was no sign of Sherlock. Had someone spotted him? Dinner had come and gone, with little eating on her part. Christopher was put to bed and the house was silent once again.

"Ma'am would you like me to stay until your guest returns?" Stanley said worriedly as he watched his mistress staring out into the blackness from one of the large windows in her study. Her distance, while not uncommon because she was a distant person, had been more extreme for the day he thought.

"No, no Stanley. Go home and relax. I will see you in the morning."

"Alright Ma'am." He replied hesitantly shutting the door behind him. Turning to leave he was startled by Helen's proximity to his person, obviously eavesdropping on the situation as much as possible.

"Helen what are you doing?"

"Who do you think this mystery man is? He is clearly quite abrupt, to show up here so late last night and be gone before morning." Helen said ignoring Stanley's pervious inquiry. Taking the aging man by the elbow Helen led him to the middle of the greeting hall. "It's strange don't you think?"

"I would be lying if I said it wasn't odd, but I don't think it is our place to pry." Stanley replied looking down at the gray haired woman.

"You're no fun!" Helen poked him in the side. "You may not want to, but I am going to find out more about this gentleman. For the lady to bring a man into this house now, it couldn't be worse timing. I'm just trying to understand her thinking." She continued, her voice finding a seriousness that was not there before.

"I don't know what she is thinking." Stanley agreed. "Perhaps that is what has her on edge."

"We will just have to keep them from finding out. She may be an unusual woman herself but she is our mistress. Some loyalty is due."

"Agreed, the more in the dark they are the better." Stanley said firmly. "Goodnight Helen, I'll see you in the morning."

"You know we're getting too old for this." Helen said.

"I know" Stanley laughed putting on his coat, preparing for his walk to his little cottage not far from the house.

The fire had burned down, the embers now a dark red. Olivia found herself staring at the clock. Watching as the hands moved distressingly up, finally chiming at midnight. Her eyes began to feel heavy and before she realized she was dozing. The sound of the front door slamming startled her awake. Jumping from her chair, she practically ran to the greeting hall, only to see dark coat tails already making their way up the staircase. Grabbing hold of the banister she pulled herself up the stairs quickly chasing after him. As she made her way down the hall she was too late before Sherlock had already retreated to his bedroom. Sighing she knocked on the door, to have it abruptly opened mid knock. Startled she couldn't find her words, she just looked at him. He looked paler than normal, his hair more disheveled, and his eyes were red.

"Don't worry I returned the car to where I found it." Sherlock said dryly.

"I don't care about that." Olivia replied, her tone surprising even herself. "Are you alright?"

Raising an eyebrow Sherlock replied simply "I'm fine. Goodnight." Shutting the door in her face. Gritting her teeth Olivia maintained her resolve.

"You don't look fine." she said through the door. When she got no answer she continued. "You can talk to me Sherlock, that hasn't changed, remember that." Placing her hand on the door she thought of the many times she has had to talk to Sherlock through doors. Staying there perhaps longer than she should she finally retreated to her room.

* * *

The next morning Olivia awoke with a start. She hadn't gotten much sleep that night and sighed at being roused so early. Then suddenly it hit her, what was that noise that woke her. The loud vibration sound was carrying from down the hallway. Fearing Christopher had gotten into something he shouldn't. Olivia tore the bedding quickly away trying to scramble out of bed. Grabbing a robe as she went she raced down the hallway only to find that the sound wasn't coming from Christopher's room, but the room of her new guest Sherlock Holmes. Sighing she wrapped the thin silk robe around her slim frame and knocked on his door. Suddenly the sound stopped.

"Come in" Sherlock's voice echoed. Slowly opening the door Olivia was met with a half-naked man. Sherlock stood in the middle of the room, his trousers thankfully in place, staring at himself in the poor refection of an antique mirror, electric clippers in hand. Olivia's gasp was hard to stifle when her gaze finally left his bare chest and landed on his now patchy head of hair.

"SHERLOCK! What are you doing?" Olivia cried rushing over to him and taking the clippers from his hand as if that could somehow fix the damage he had already done.

"Too recognizable" he replied off in thought.

"What?"

"My hair, too recognizable, there are photos of me everywhere so I was too easy to spot. I solved the problem." Looking down at the device Olivia raised her eyebrow.

"It's a wonder you didn't scalp yourself with this setting."

"I've never cut my own hair before; it was getting the job done nonetheless." As he spoke Olivia turned to the small desk in the room. Grabbing the chair she forcibly set it down in the middle of the room.

"Sit" she ordered. Eyeing her questionably Sherlock did as he was told. Taking a pair of scissors from the desk Olivia set to work. Slowly she took each lock of curls and trimmed them short. Sherlock merely watched as the hair fell down to his bare feet.

"It's such a shame."

"What is?"

"This. I've always liked your hair. You don't look like yourself without it. Even with that distinctive face of yours." Olivia joked.

"That is the point."

"I know but your hair has looked like this since I first met you." She smiled and chuckled to herself before she continued. "I only just realized that you hadn't changed it since you were eight years old."

"Hmm yes, there was no need." Taking the clippers Olivia tried her best to shave down to the damage that had already been done. Sighing she rubbed her hand over the finished result.

"You'd be fit for the military now." Standing up Sherlock inspected himself in the mirror. "All cheekbones now." Olivia joked.

"I suppose so, Ummm thank you for that." He said motioning to the clippers, too shock at being thanked Olivia only smiled.

"Breakfast?" she finally managed. As he hummed his reply she glanced back down to his bare chest, catching herself she quickly looked away. "Perhaps put some clothes on before you come down stairs, I would hate for Helen to get the wrong idea. Though I am sure she already has, the old bird. "

"What idea?"

"Oh bless you Sherlock" she said smiling "nothing at all."

The light was bright in the spacious dining room, flooding in from the row of massive windows facing the sea. By the time Sherlock had managed to arrive breakfast was in full swing. Stanley regarded Sherlock as he entered, gesturing toward the table for him to take a seat. Helen and Christopher sat together, while Helen tried desperately to get the squirming boy to eat his porridge and fruit. However the child was far more fascinated with the dinosaur figurines he was currently playing with. Olivia sat directly across from them her back to the sun. A newspaper nearly hid her from Sherlock's view as she casually turned through its pages.

"Awe the mystery man finally shows himself." Helen said earning her a stern look from Stanley, as he set a place for Sherlock next to Olivia. As Sherlock sat down Olivia didn't even move her paper to glance at him, leaving him alone to be scrutinized by the old woman in front of him.

"Breakfast sir?" Stanley asked.

"Tea with biscuits, if you have them" Sherlock replied slowly. He suddenly felt like he was at Mycroft's house. The ceremony of it all was making the air stuffy.

"Of course sir." Moments later the silver tray was being placed in front of him.

"Would you like to introduce your guest ma'am?" Stanley said to Olivia who was still ignoring the whole situation. Dropping her paper to finally regard the table, a silent panic settled in her bones as all eager eyes landed on her.

"Ummm yes, this is… ummm…" She stumbled panicked, why hadn't Sherlock and her discussed this already. Who was he supposed to be? Eyeing Sherlock she begged for help "This is… my ummm"

"William Scott" Sherlock interjected, extending his hand across the table to the disapproving looking nanny.

"William Scott" Olivia repeated, more to confirm it to herself than anything else. "Yes, my friend William from university" she confirmed looking at Helen then Sherlock as she spoke. Her heart skipped a beat as silence clung to the room. She had never been an actress, at least not one that could perform on the spot. Worried that Helen wouldn't buy it her heart raced, what was she supposed to do if Helen had more questions? However Sherlock thankfully stopped any further queries.

"Yes we went to school together, though we haven't seen each other in a long time." he said, just as Olivia was about to speak Sherlock grabbed her hand from under the table. Startled she looked at him; he gave her a stern stare. Helen watched the interaction wordlessly. Breakfast continued silently, except of course for Christopher's playing.

"What time is his lesson?" Olivia asked Helen.

"In a half hour, ma'am" Standing Olivia rounded the table, bending down to be eye level with her son.

"Then darling it is time to get ready for class, your tutor will be here soon." Olivia said. Christopher's face turned sour looking his mother dead in the eye.

"I don't want to" he pouted.

"I know, but it is for your own good" Olivia said cupping his face with her hands "and mine."

"Go on now." Olivia said with a smile, kissing the boy on the top of his head. Helen gathered the boy's things and they made their way from the dining room, closing the door behind them. The room was silent for a moment as Sherlock processed the scene.

"Your son has tutors? Bit young don't you think?" Sherlock said. Olivia was still watching the door where her son had just left. Sighing she answered.

"It was advised to me that this would be the best." Looking at Sherlock she had a sad smile plastered on her expression. "Why did you stop me from speaking earlier?"

"Only lies have details."

"This is a lie Sherlock." She relied raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly why we shouldn't elaborate." Sherlock replied taking a sip of his tea. Olivia returned to her original seat, however choosing to sit on the table facing Sherlock this time. She picked up one of his biscuits and dipped it into his tea. Taking a bite she smiled. It was a trait about her that he had forgotten. One that he surprisingly missed, but one he was sure he would have found annoying if from anyone else. Tucking her leg underneath herself, she grabbed her abandoned paper again.

"They make quite a compelling case." She said.

"And you believe everything you read in the papers do you?" Sherlock replied.

"Most do, don't they?"

"I do believe that was the intention behind this whole ordeal." He said tilting his head to look at her. Breaking her gaze from him Olivia nervously looked back at the article. 'When had he started intimidating her so?' She thought.

"I don't see how, everyone who knows you, nay whosever met you, Sherlock will not believe this."

"A well packaged lie surrounded by the truth. I assure you, people would rather believe that I am a fraud than admit that I was right. People love to call others liars, therein lies the rub, because more often than not those people speak the truth. The truth no one wants to confess to. That is why people will believe it. They will believe what protects their silly little egos"

"Well, I believe in Sherlock Holmes. Always have."

"You and few others will." Biting her lip Olivia searched for something to say, but words failed her.

"How long is this going to last?" Sherlock interjected pulling on the edge of Olivia's black dress.

"You mean my mourning clothes?" she sighed "I don't know. Until I don't want to wear them I suppose. I guess with you being dead they work doubly now."

"Your husband…" Sherlock began.

"Please, let us talk about anything other than that. How long is this going to last?" she said copying his question as she gestured to the room. The sun was shining high in the sky now; Sherlock guessing it to be about 11 in the morning, but the glare was burning his eyes.

"I don't know. Moriarty was unlike anyone I have ever faced. A consulting criminal that was more like a spider than a man." Sherlock focused on the far wall, his hands coming up to rest against his mouth. Olivia said nothing, she only listened. She was curious about the man that pinned Sherlock in a corner. "His network is vast, complex, and built on deceit. I'm not entirely sure where to even begin. If I make the wrong move, and try to uncover a single part of his group that doesn't actually exists, then I expose myself. If I do find something and I get caught, I expose myself. And then people get hurt."

"Why would they still be looking for you? You're dead." Olivia asked making air quotes as she said the word dead. "Plus their employer just offed himself, easy payday if you ask me."

"I don't know. I can't take the chance, not this soon. They could be tracking me down as I speak" as if on cue the ancient doorbell rang, startling both occupants of the dining room. Hopping off from the table Olivia straightened her dress.

"That will be Christopher's tutor then." she said as she made her way to the entrance of the room. "We'll finish this later."

"Okay" he said not far behind her. As Olivia opened the door she watched as Stanley opened the front door wide for their guest to enter.

"The lady will be with you momentarily." He said side stepping to allow the guest more room. It was then that Olivia's heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. Before she realized she was moving she spun on her heel pushing Sherlock back into the dining hall, and slamming the doors directly in Sherlock's face. Bewildered he grabbed the handle and attempted to pull, however the doors didn't budge. Rattling the handle he called out.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" ignoring him Olivia moved wide eyed slowly into the greeting hall.

"Mrs. Holmes, what a surprise!" she said loudly.

"Lady Cavendish" the fierce eyed woman replied. "I'm here to talk to you about my son." Olivia stood still while regarding what her elder had just said. 'Did she know Sherlock was here? Why else would she be here? God I'm getting dizzy' Olivia thought. Finally realizing that a considerable amount of time had passed without her saying anything or breathing Olivia motioned to her study.

"Please sit, Stanley could you bring us some tea, thank you." She said far too fast. Mrs. Holmes entered the study, scrutinizing the room as she went, with Olivia not far behind her. Closing the door, they both took a seat opposite one another by the fire place.

"This is a fine house my lady" She said motioning to the extensive shelves full of books.

"Please you don't have to call me that, I was Olivia to you long before I gained a title."

"You worked so hard to get it. It would be a shame not to use it." She replied her tone carrying bitterness to it. "You seem nervous dear, is something wrong?"

"No I'm fine; I'm just surprised to see you. It has been a long time."

"Yes it has. How long has it been since you've seen Sherlock?"

"Gosh ages, like 10 years I think." or more like five minutes' she thought. Stanley entered the study carrying a rather large tea tray. Placing it down, he quickly began making tea.

"Will Mr. Scott be joining you?" he asked, passing a steaming cup to Mrs. Holmes.

"No he won't, actually make sure we aren't disturbed." Olivia said.

"Yes ma'am." He replied, leaving the room just as quickly as he entered.

"Oh you have other guests, I should have called."

"No its fine, I never thought you would visit me." Olivia said.

"You were as much a part of my family as my boys are, even if it has been over a decade. And I thought the news would be hard on you, that's why I came to visit." Olivia's heart ached.

"You shouldn't have, you of all people right now, shouldn't be worrying about me" Olivia couldn't bear to look at her, her voice just slightly above a whisper. "I'm sorry for your loss, I truly am."

"Thank you, though I have my suspicions about this whole ordeal but I won't bore you with that. But I couldn't just sit around worrying about you, Mycroft told me about your husband, and the mother in me just couldn't stay away. "She said taking a sip of her tea.

"You were more of a mother to me than my own was." Olivia said plainly avoiding eye contact.

"She did the best she could."

"It's odd to hear you defend her so." Olivia replied in disbelief.

"I'm sure it is." She said laughing.

"I know you're not fond of me, so I really appreciate you coming here." Those words were the only thing Olivia had wanted to say the moment Mrs. Holmes had entered the study.

"It isn't entirely you; I just don't like how you've treated my boys."

"Not really sure what you mean by that but fair enough."

"Really? I thought it was obvious. Though I do know you love them, especially Sherlock." Olivia froze, how was she supposed to answer that? She was 95% sure that Sherlock would be listening, somehow, to this conversation. But she couldn't think. She couldn't lie.

"Yes I did."

"How did things end up like this?" Mrs. Holmes said, staring into the fire. "You know back then, I thought nothing would change. I thought those two will be together till the end. You chasing after him as you always did."

"Some things aren't meant to last." Olivia said her breathing hitched.

"And I can tell just by looking at you that some things never change." Olivia didn't look at her, she knew she was right. But so much had happened; too much damage had been done.

"I'm not sure reminiscing right now is the best idea." Olivia said as she felt the sting in her eyes.

"Yes, we will talk about anything else then, shall we." Mrs. Holmes replied, her tone instantly warmer.

"Thank you."

The two women sat for ages. They talked about Christopher, politics and Mycroft's involvement in them, the possibility of Mrs. Holmes' new book. For hours they spoke, like nothing had happened, or ever happened between them. Once or twice the conversation fell on Sherlock but when it did it was about his new life. His cases, his fame, and his new found partner John Watson. To which Olivia confessed she was devilishly curious about. Morning turned to midday and midday to evening before they realized that the sun had set. They had been talking all day. Staying for dinner, Mrs. Holmes was a delight. She and Helen chatted all through dinner about dealing with difficult young boys. Telling a few tales of how her own gave her grief. But she never once mentioned the papers, the suicide, or its effects on her. As the evening came to a close and Stanley got her coat Olivia and Mrs. Holmes shared a few parting words.

"Thank you for coming to visit, it was very nice." Olivia said, giving the woman a gentle but short hug.

"You're welcome, come and visit us sometime." She replied. "Oh and I do apologize for keeping you away from Mr. Scott. He could have joined us for dinner."

"I assure you that would have been a shocking experience." Olivia laughed.

As she watched the car drive down the long gravel road, Olivia finally felt the tension in her. Her back ached, her jaw tight, and her breathing slightly labored. She needed a drink. Surrendering once again to her warm chair by the fire, a bottle of wine and quiet was welcomed after the day's events.

"Did you mean all that because that was quite…good?" Sherlock said from the study door.

"I knew you would be listening."

"Mother seems to be doing well" Sherlock said taking the seat that the woman in question had occupied not hours earlier.

"I think she knows the truth." Olivia said sipping her wine.

"Yes she does."

"So much for tip toeing around that issue. Why didn't you show yourself then?"

"Better to keep a little doubt in her mind." Sherlock said. Silence fell in the room, with nothing but the sounds of cracking wood and ancient clocks.

"Sherlock can I ask you something?" Olivia said abruptly.

"Hmmm?"

"Why did you go to your own funeral? Your mother told me that she didn't even go."

"I had to say goodbye to him, John I mean."

"I see." Olivia said tensely.

"I've upset you, why?"

"You've changed. For the better it seems but it still catches me off guard." Olivia replied off in thought. Pulling her feet into her chair with her, she let herself relax.

"Why? Why would that upset you?" Sherlock said confused.

"I wish you would have said goodbye to me." She said exasperated. Standing Sherlock took a glass and filled it with wine, taking a long gulp before taking the bottle with him and sitting back down. Olivia watched him confused, he didn't drink often.

"You hated me; I was the last person you wanted to see." He relied not looking at her.

"That's not true. You were my best friend, my only friend. You broke my heart that day." At her words Sherlock focused intently on the girl who now seemed fascinated by the design on the rug. His mind and heart raced.

"You should have never left such a delicate thing with me then, weren't Mycroft's warnings enough. 'He's a selfish child, don't rely on him'" Sherlock said mocking Mycroft in a high pitched voice.

"You think I chose to?" Olivia replied abashed. She was amazed that he was still sitting there. He was letting her yell at him. He was letting her vent. There were no mean deductions or snide comments. He was actually listening to her. "I didn't lie to your mother, I loved you Sherlock. One day I woke up and loved you."

"Do you think I relished knowing that I had caused you so much pain? I may be calculating but I am not stone." Sherlock said. Finishing his cup of wine he refilled it quickly. "And you did lie to my mother."

"If you mean about you being dead then yes, and she didn't buy it."

"No she didn't, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what?"

"You said you hadn't seen me in 10 years, that's not true."

"I don't really count the last time" she said sighing. "I don't even see how you remember that last time."

"I have an excellent memory."

"Apparently." Olivia said sarcastically. "Do you remember when we first met?" she said smiling at the memory.

"Of course." Sherlock replied smiling himself. "We fought then too."

To Be Continued.

* * *

Author's Note:** Young Sherlock tales start next chapter!** There will be some back and forth between the past and present but i will indicate when that happens.

Thanks for reading! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. If anyone has any questions or would just like to chat my inbox is open! :D (Or drop me a line on tumblr) I would really love to get some feedback since this is my first Sherlock fic.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing... no really, nothing. It's quite sad. Owners are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and I assume chaps at the BBC.**


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